


A World Built on Belief

by realmzenith



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Coffee Shops, M/M, Romantic Comedy, alfred has glowy hands, and smth is Looming in the darkness, characters listed in order of appearance, ivan is tired and nat is angry, lud has a mild crush, this?? a ridiculous mashup of everyone's fav coffee shop au and urban fantasy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-07-02 14:14:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15798195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/realmzenith/pseuds/realmzenith
Summary: Ludwig Beilschmidt is a twenty-one year old barista and engineering major, doing his best to make ends meet and avoid the distracting businessman, Alfred Jones, who comes everyday to his Starbucks. When Alfred offers him a job, Ludwig learns there's a little more magic to Alfred than he'd ever guessed.Join the boys on their journey to another world lurking between our alleys, beneath our feet and in our harbors, and hold your breath as they race to Light the world and turn back Time.





	1. lights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my contribution to the [GerAme week](gerame-week.tumblr.com), Day 1! The theme was "Night and Day" which will make more sense further into the fic. 
> 
> However, this is also the start to a new multi-chapter urban fantasy fic that I'm hyped to bring to the table! Expect a lot of drama, tension, and of course, romance. I hope you all have as much reading this as I did writing it, and be sure to buckle your seat belts for the adventure the boys are just setting out on! As always reblogs, comments and kudos are more than appreciated. <3 
> 
> The aesthetic for this chapter can be found [here](https://realmwrites.tumblr.com/post/177414865152/expanse-its-rare-these-days-you-know-people).

 

_Let us step into the night and pursue that flighty temptress, adventure._

-  _J.K. Rowling_

“Kiku, please. I can't stand him. He stands too close to me when he orders and-”

“And what? He smells like summer showers and wood smoke? Come on, Ludwig! We _know_ you think he's a catch.” Eliza slaps Ludwig's back with a grin. “Now go take his order! I still am your manager, you know.”

Kiki shrugs noncommittally. “I'll take it if you want me to.”

Ludwig reddens, the reminder of past comments pulling hot shame to his ears. It isn't his fault that the man leans all the way over the counter or smells like fresh rain and fireworks or smiles like there's the sun shining behind his perfect white teeth. He turns helplessly to Kiku, acknowledging the true nature of his request by his demeanor alone. Perhaps, the man- Alfred's his name- doesn't lean in quite as far as Ludwig claims. Maybe Ludwig doesn't really think his laugh is that irritating. Maybe it's Ludwig that's too easily affected by his obnoxiously attractive smile and his bright blue eyes.

He's shaken from his thoughts by Eliza’s hand in his hair.

“Wake up, lover boy! Customers are waiting.”

Ludwig hurries to the front, stealing one last glance at Kiku wiping the counter with a smile. He squares his shoulders and exhales. Alfred is still there, sprawled over the counter, one arm settled atop it and the other hanging limp by his side. He's dressed in a full suit, his wide shoulders fitted beneath the sleek black lines and his million dollar smile spread across his face. Heat rushes to Ludwig's cheeks. Compared to Alfred, lounging languidly by the register, he feels like a rusted automaton, his joints moving stiff.

“I apologize for the wait. What can I get for you today, sir?” He swears he even sounds like a robot.

“Hey, don’t sweat it, and just Alfred's fine, remember? I'll take a mocha cappuccino.” Alfred runs a hand through his hair, speaking clipped in his New York accent.

Ludwig has lived in NYC for three years, but the accent is still foreign falling from Alfred's lips. He doesn't know what exactly he expects- maybe the smooth articulation of a radio announcer or the comfortable cadence of a southern drawl- but it isn't this. Alfred, not only dresses like, but sounds like a character played by a young Leonardo DiCaprio, quick speech, snappy movements and all, and it does nothing to solve Ludwig's little dilemma.

“One mocha cappuccino. What size would you like that in?”

He'd love to say he knows Alfred's order. Not at all because it's Alfred, but because Ludwig prides himself in his dependable recollection of returning customers orders. Unfortunately, Alfred is a consistent wild card.

“Venti, yeah.” Different again.

Ludwig is, by no means, obsessed. He once mapped out every order Alfred has ever gotten, but it was for solely business purposes. Much to Ludwig's disappointment and embarrassment, Gilbert, his brother, had caught him in the act. A quick end was put to his research, but it doesn't matter. It's been months since Alfred first stepped through the door, and his orders have remained as arbitrary as ever.

“Alright, will that be all?”

“Yessir.” Alfred leans into the counter, his head cocked as Ludwig punches in his order.

His black frames glint in the sunlight shafting in through the windows, and amusement plays up on his features. Ludwig can feel Eliza’s smile burning at his back as he reads off the price and does his best to put on a customer service worthy smile.

Alfred hands him his card before pausing, his hand settling atop of Ludwig's. It's far more calloused than Ludwig expected and hot. Unnatural heat rolls off it in waves, Ludwig's heart pounding in his head as every atom in him screaming to recoil when he can't. Alfred takes the card back from his fingers, and the tension dissipates like a storm cloud into mist.

“Actually, how busy are you right now?”

Ludwig shakes out of his daze, yanking his hand back to his side and blinking owlishly. “Er…”

“He's free!” Eliza calls from the back, a distinctive lilt to her tone.

Ludwig freezes. There are too many ways this can go wrong, and the memory of Alfred's hand on his own is seared red hot in his mind. Something is wrong.

But before he can react, Alfred is nodding towards the menu behind him.

“I'll buy you a drink, Ludwig. What's your favorite? Want to join me at the table?” He jerks his thumbs towards an empty table by the window.

It's the one thing consistent about Alfred. No matter what tie he wears, what drink he orders or what time he arrives, he sits at the exact same table at the exact same seat, sipping at his drink and stealing what Ludwig swears are glances at _him_. Ludwig dislikes considering the latter as it tends to cause his thoughts to stray, and the one time he'd mentioned it in passing to Kiku and Eliza, they’d spent the entire lunch break conspiring in a corner without him.

“Hey, Ludwig.” Alfred's hand returns briefly to his forearm, the odd heat sparking subdued down Ludwig's arm.

He jolts back to the present and flushes red. “Sorry, you asked-?”

“Your favorite drink, but you don't have to if you don't want to. ‘Course I do have an offer for you.” Alfred winks, and for a millisecond, his irises flashes gold.

A tugging sense of authority settles in Ludwig's gut though it's less of a need to submit than it is just a presence. He shivers involuntarily, his mind drifting to wonder if Kiku and Eliza are aware of Alfred's aura. Adrenaline is pumping hot in his blood, yet the flight response from before has lapsed into curious longing. Alfred is magnetic, nearly to the point where it's taunting.

“Er… I can just have a small black coffee.” Ludwig manages, his own voice foreign to his ears.

He's cut off again by Eliza from the back. “He likes the strawberry frappe!”

Alfred grins, leaning characteristically close over the counter. He smells faintly of wood smoke. “A large of that please, barista.”

“One large mocha cappuccino and one large strawberry frappuccino.” Ludwig ducks in an attempt to maintain some semblance of dignity. “Will that be all?”

He knows there's no point in denying his sweet tooth. If he does, Eliza, and perhaps even Kiku, will expose him even further.

“Just that and your company, absolutely.” Alfred slides him his card, his fingers stopping just short of Ludwig's and his easy attempts at eye contact never ceasing.

He completes the transaction, handing the card back with minimal eye contact and a conscious lack of brushing fingers. Alfred seems unfazed by the casual announcement of his sweet tooth, but Ludwig is blushing, and he hates it. The wiser part of himself is warning him to take caution and decline Alfred's offer, but he knows he'll regret declining this opportunity every time Alfred walks through the front door. Maybe Alfred knows, and Ludwig is playing right into his hands, but he muses that little harm can be done beneath the watchful gaze of his friends mere meters away.

Alfred nods towards the table, his dress shoes clicking against the floor as he moves. “How ‘bout we take a seat?”

With a quick glance back to his unhelpfully amused coworkers, Ludwig shuffles towards the exit and the subsequent table. Alfred pulls out his seat for him before spinning around his own and straddling it backwards. He begins working off his tie as Ludwig makes his way to the seat, unsure of what to expect.

“Thank you.” Ludwig keeps his eyes trained on Alfred as he sits.

“So Ludwig, you’re good with numbers, huh?”

He can do nothing but watch as Alfred tugs off his tie in just a few smooth movements, his fingers working far quicker than Ludwig would’ve expected. He balls it up and sets it on the counter.

“Numbers…? What do you mean?” His breaths are too loud in his ears.

“Numbers. Finances.” Alfred reaches out, taking his tie and unscrunching and scrunching it again. “You seem like a smart guy, Beilschmidt. You good with numbers?”

“I…”

There’s something unnerving about his eyes- as if at any moment they’ll flash gold again and their coffee shop will burst into flames. It isn’t uncomfortable, but the air around him seems to be thrumming with raw power. Ludwig shakes it off, clearing his throat as he responds.

“I’m alright with numbers, I suppose.” He can hear the cars driving past, subtle disappointment settling in his mind at Alfred’s questioning of his professional skill set alone. “Why do you ask?”

“I’m looking for someone to handle some numbers for me, and I like you. You’ve got grit. Good energy.” Alfred balls up the tie with both hands at the last few words.

His brow furrows. “You’re offering me a job…?”

“Yessir. I mean, do you have other obligations this summer? It would be an all-day kind of deal. You’re in college, huh?”

“Yes…?”

“You look college age.” Alfred nods. “But yeah, I’m offering you a job, Ludwig. A personal secretary gig. I’ll double whatever you’re making here because like I said before I like your energy. It’s rare these days, you know? People with your brand of light.”

Alfred’s odd statements fall with a certain gravity. Suspicions crop up like weeds in his garden, but Ludwig is finding the promise of money more than enticing. It’s no secret that he needs it.

“I’m an engineering major.” He’s speaking before he knows it. “I don’t know if I could do whatever you need in your… office?”

“In the office. In the field. Close enough. I work business. Deal in information. Nothing life-threatening, of course. I’d give you more information if you’re interested- secrets of the trade and all- but yeah, I’d show you what needs to be done. Honestly I’ll triple your current salary if you’ll take it.”

“Why… What made you come to me?”

“Ah, yeah. Me and my colleagues have been scouting. You’ll meet them too.”

“Alfred,” Kiku says from behind them. “Your drinks are ready.”

Ludwig scrambles up from the chair to retrieve them, returning with them while Alfred pauses awkwardly between the tables and the counter. He blinks, and the cool facade seems to fall. Ludwig sets the drinks on the table, and without explanation, Alfred breaks into a smile, tints of red in his cheeks.

“Wow, you’re fast. I barely had time to think before you got those.”

Ludwig flushes again. “Sorry, customer service habit.”

“Nah, you’re fine.” Alfred laughs as he takes a seat, removing the straws from their packages. “I just didn’t expect it.” He gestures to Ludwig’s drink and stabs in his straw. “So you’re more of a sweet kind of guy?”

Ludwig pauses, thrown off by the sudden topic shift. The sensation of reality moving one step to the left remains, but familiarity mingles between the strangeness. He tugs down his green apron and says, “In a sense.”

“That’s cute.” Alfred grins. “I didn’t expect that one from you either.”

He has a nice smile, all straight teeth and curved lips, and Ludwig has no idea how to respond. He takes his drink and sips. “Most don’t.”

A pause settles as Alfred takes his first sip of his own drink, oblivious to the building awkwardness. With a contented sigh, he pulls a card from his suit pocket with his free hand and slides it across the table, tapping it lightly with a finger.

“So I’m really sorry, Ludwig, but duty’s calling. This is my number. Call me by tomorrow, yeah? I probably won’t make it in for a coffee, but-” He stands from his seat. “You’ll know where to find me.”

Ludwig slips the card into his back pocket and watches in blank disbelief as Alfred strolls out the door, his drink in hand. The door shutters closed, the bell chime ringing and Alfred disappearing around the corner. It's over before it's even begun, and Ludwig has been caught unawares. No sign of him remains in the streets, cars shuddering by and pedestrians streaming past.

He tears his eyes from the window scene as the door chimes and summon him back to duty. He takes one quick sip of his drink and rushes to the back, his skin still tingling where they’d touched.

It’s much too loud, and the world still feels pushed a step to the left.

 

* * *

 

“That was odd.”

“Hm, that is one way to put it.” Kiku shuts his door, pulling over his seat belt. “He’s always been an interesting character.”

“I don’t know, Kiku. Do you think it’s legitimate? What do you think he wants? And scouting? What does that mean?” Ludwig’s fingers still on the key, half-twisted in the ignition and his gaze fixed in the distance.

“Have you looked at the card he gave you? We could google the company.”

His eyes widen, and he scrambles for his pocket, procuring the card between them. Kiku leans in slightly in as he turns it over. It’s white, lettered in gold. In blocky bold script it reads:

LUMOS

varied informational services

Alfred F. Jones

xxx-xxx-xxxx

To the corner, there’s an address in fine print. Kiku gestures for him to flip it over once again. Ludwig does, but the back is just as blank as before.

“Hm, no website. Do you think he doesn’t have an internet presence?” Kiku settles back in his seat, pulling out his phone and tapping in the name.

“What kind of marketing is that?” Ludwig murmurs, settling in his seat.

The sun is dropping behind the rows of buildings, rays of red light extending across the horizon. A car pulls out two spots down, headlights flashing and tires rolling across the asphalt. His hand still tingles, and every time he lingers on the window of their Starbucks, he sees a head of golden blond and a flash of shining gold. He runs his thumb along his knuckles, his lips pursed as Kiku googles.

It's terrible he knows. Alfred Jones is nothing short of suspicious, but Ludwig still sees his flustered smile, his suited back, his golden wink each time his thoughts begin to wander. Accepting the job would be for the money, but Ludwig, in all truth, knows it would be for Alfred as well.

“I found something,” Kiku says.

Ludwig blinks back to reality, leaning over to catch a glimpse of Kiku’s glowing screen. “What's it say?”

Kiku turns it towards him. It’s mostly blank, headed only by a set of golden letters. It's a postless Facebook page with a golden swirl set as the profile picture and the same set of information as before. Ludwig reaches in to tap on the other tabs, but each one is as empty as the one before.

“Do you think he just made it?” Ludwig says.

“No, you can see the dates in the timeline. It's been around for a few years at least.” Kiku clicks out of the webpage and into Instagram.

Ludwig's heart catches in his throat. Alfred's grinning face is set as the profile and a myriad of selfies and picturesque photoshoots litter his feed. There's Alfred standing by a lake his arms slung around a smirking girl with platinum blonde hair and a man with brown shoulder-length hair. He's posing beside skyscrapers. His face is squished beside a smiling blonde woman, her hair cut in a stylish bob. He's in the woods with a blond-haired guy beneath his arm. He's sitting across a tall, tired man at a cafe table. It's a patchwork of color and people, and Ludwig knows he's staring.

Kiku turns, a knowing smile twitching up on his lips.

“Well.” Ludwig clears his throat, flushing at Kiku’s obvious amusement at his mild case of feelings. “He’s a real person.”

“I don't think that's what we were doubting, but-" He stops, his eyes latching onto Ludwig's hand. “Ludwig, your hand. What did you do to it?”

He moves his gaze from the dashboard to his hand. It’s glowing, dusted with a fine sprinkling of golden light right where Alfred touched him. He pulls his hand from his lap, watching in shock as the glowing begins to pulse with the dying sun.

“What the hell? That’s where his hand was.”

Kiku holds his hand out, palm up, and stares expectantly at Ludwig. “Can I see?”

He offers his hand. “What do you think it is? Can you wipe it off?”

“I don’t think so. You’ve washed your hands with soap and water today, right?” He takes his hand, swiping at the glowing area first softly then harder. He gnaws at his lip as the glowing refuses to fade. “It’s stuck. I don’t know what it is.”

“Wait.” Ludwig tugs his hand from Kiku’s grip and pulls up his sleeve.

Beneath the fabric, his skin is dusted with the same golden glow. Alfred’s hand is imprinted in what looks like fairy dust, the edges shimmering where the light has caught. Ludwig reaches for the spot and rubs, his heart rate rising. He can hear the cars driving by, and shop doors closing. His heart hammers too loud in his ears, and the phantom heat of Alfred’s hand returns to his skin like a thousand miniature bonfires. He turns to Kiku, eyes wide and his hand still settled across the glowing on his arm.

“Is it poison?” Ludwig starts, his voice uncharacteristically high.

“Do you feel weird?” Kiku runs his own fingers together, staring at where he'd touched Ludwig. There's nothing. “You could always lick it to see.”

Ludwig gives him a drawn look.

Kiku smiles apologetically and procures the card from the side pocket, presenting it with his thumb by the number. “Sorry, Ludwig. You could always call the number? On your arm- did he brush you there?”

“I think so, and I don't know. Do you think that's a good idea?”

“Could I see again?” Kiku gestures to Ludwig's hand still on his arm.

“Oh, sorry.” He sets it on the wheel, uncovering the golden mark.

The sun is nearly gone, and it's growing brighter. He feels no different sans the strange memory of heat. Kiku presses his fingers against it, scratching lightly with his nails, but nothing occurs. He draws back, confusion on his face.

“I don't understand how it's only on your skin and not your clothes. It must a high tech version of glow in the dark glitter?” Kiku slips his phone back in his pocket, concern in his tone. “Maybe it was an accident. If it only appears at night, he could've forgotten it was on him. You should ask him if it's toxic. After all, what's the worst that could happen?”

“Don't you think it's a little late for that? Business hours are over.”

“It's up to you.”

Ludwig sighs heavily, his hand sliding across the steering wheel and reaching for the key. “Okay. Should I take the job?”

“Hm.” Kiku stops and hums, his eyes set on the horizon. “If you want to. What's the worst that could happen?”

He twists the key forward, and the engine roars to life. “I'll sleep on it. It's better to make decisions in the morning.”

 

* * *

 

Mist curls around their feet, painting white across the soupy mass of black around them and drawing chills across her skin. Her hair swells like a pale cloud around her head, and thunder rumbles as her voice fades from the atmosphere. She snorts as her brother sombers, his expression set in thought. It must be another scheme.

“We should stop him.” The words drop like cinder blocks from his lips, weighty and devoid of emotion.

Natalya falls back against the air and hovers, supported by her billowing skirts alone.

“What's it to us if he's playing with another mortal?” She taps a finger on Ivan's hand and scowls.

His face tightens, and he pushes her hand away. “This isn't about saving a mortal from heartbreak. The Blotting returns. We cannot risk a… _an emotional liability_ at a time like this.”

“ _Oh_ .” She sneers. “So you're worried about _him_.”

“Don't be ridiculous, Natasha. You were there. You have no excuse to be so short sighted.” He stands to his full height, his arm flying out to gesture towards the expanse of night before them. “You know why we need more vessels. You can feel it rising, too.”

She stills, her gaze drawn towards the pulsing sea of black. Stars are scattered like shining pearls in its waters, and the very atmosphere sings with ancient power. Darkness permeates this place beyond the Veil, indistinct voices and whispered prayers trickling in like golden light. It’s alive, humming with an all-encompassing sentience, and it's hungry. Ivan is right. The gods are dying, and the Blotting returns.

She steps through the murky air, her feet leaving chills rippling out in the waters and her hands clasped before her. Time is such a fickle man, and he grows more impatient by the hour. Ivan is right. It's time to move.

“I'll stop him, Vanya.”

His fists clench at his sides, his gaze set on the mortal world and his eyes swirling violet. Black tendrils dance up his arms, crackling with white electricity and curling like snakes to his neck. He shakes his head.

“I'll go. I only doubt his willingness to heed caution rather than your ability. You know Light is a fool.”

She laughs, no humor in her tone, and steps back to the light.


	2. veil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back to AWBoB, chapter two! This is once again for [GerAme week](gerame-week.tumblr.com), but as you may have noticed I'm doing the prompts out of order. This chapter goes with the prompt "Land, Sea and Sky" because of the many, many settings changes. Either way, I hope you'll all enjoy! Kudos, comments, reblogs, etc. are as always highly appreciated. <3 
> 
> The aesthetic for this chapter can be found [here](https://realmwrites.tumblr.com/post/177448184242/expanse-no-mortal-i-would-hardly-call-any-of).

_He ne'er is crowned with immortality_

_Who fears to follow where airy voices lead._

_\- John Keats_

“Should I have talked to Gilbert?”

Kiku exhales sharply through his nose, smiling. “Ludwig, you can still back out now. You're not under any contract.”

Ludwig wavers. On one hand, the situation is questionable at best, but on the other, it’d seemed much more promising after yesterday's call. Over the phone, Alfred had been professional and reassuring, and if he was being honest, comfortably personable.

When consulted, Eliza had shared her doubts on the matter, but overall she’d been predictably supportive. She'd even assured him a clean break from Starbucks employment as there were always strings for her to pull. The odds are in his favor, yet doubts are still stirring in the back of his mind.

He shakes his head, moving adamantly out of the passenger seat. “I made a commitment. It would be wrong to go back on my word when I haven't even given this a chance.”

Kiku nods, satisfied. “Good luck then, and remember to ask about your hand. I'm curious.”

“I will. Thank you, Kiku.” He shuts the door and waves goodbye to his friend.

Kiku accelerates smoothly into the street, leaving Ludwig alone on the sidewalk. Cars of all colors and makes blend into the cacophony of the city. Pedestrians jostle past him, and a pigeon flaps by overhead. Ludwig shakes out of his thoughts and turns to face the bakery ahead. The bells chime as a customer exits, and he catches a glimpse of the entrance to Lumos’ offices. He enters, finding the elevator at the back and stepping in.

Red letters blink on the display as a robotic voice announces that the doors are closing. The metal smooths shut, and he exhales, fiddling with the top button of his polo. Alfred had said there was no need for a suit, but he feels under dressed in his polo and slacks. He'd tried the first button open- Eliza said it suggests confidence- but now he feels professionalism is key. He only wishes he’d checked his hair before exiting the car.

The elevator slides to a stop, and the doors slide open to the modern interior of Alfred's office. He's seated at his desk, a pen behind his ear and paperclips between his lips. Both hands write furiously across the desk, and his foot taps against the ground. His jacket and tie are thrown across the back of his chair, and his sleeves are rolled up to his forearms, revealing his tanned arms taut against the fabric. Ludwig's heart catches in his throat at the sight, and he begins to regret buttoning up his last button.

The doors begin to close as he stares, but he lunges forward, catching his arm between the doors. Alfred looks up and brightens, the clips falling against his desk. He gestures him forward.

“Ludwig, you came!” He starts to his feet, and the pen behind his ear clatters to the floor.

“Yes. I hope I’m not late.” He flushes, his hand still holding the doors open.

Alfred checks the leather watch on his arm as he moves forward. “Nah, you’re actually right on time. Time’s a funny guy anyways. We don’t have to play by his rules, but hey, come on in! You don’t have to stand in the elevator.”

Ludwig hurries in, standing awkwardly as Alfred makes the last few steps to him. He offers him his hand and grins. “Tour time. You ready for this, Lud?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” Ludwig grips his hand, and immediately, the world begins to tilt, Alfred’s skin searing into his own like a hot iron. He recoils sharply, his stomach sliding into his throat and his heart pounding.

Alfred’s eyes widen, and he swipes his hand across his pants in rapid back-and-forth movements. He steps away, eyes flashing gold and cheeks flushing red. He wrings his hands and blows. Fine white dust scatters on the carpet in an invisible sheen.

“Is that safe?” Ludwig balks, staring in shock at his unblemished hand.

“Not entirely?” Alfred blows again on his hands to the side. “Dude, I’m really sorry when I get embarrassed my hands do that sometimes. I swear I’m not trying to poison you or anything.”

“What? What is that… stuff?”

“No, it’s just… Hold on.” He turns around, cupping his hands around his mouth and raising his voice. “Tolys, bro! Can you come over here for a sec?”

Footsteps stand out behind the door, and Ludwig scans the office again. The drinking bird decoration continues to dip down on his desk, the sounds of traffic and customers below polluting the nearly soundless office. It’s normal enough, but Alfred;s presence alone throws off his sense of reality. The door pushes open to reveal a young man about their age with shoulder length brown hair. Ludwig recognizes him immediately from the thin frame to the awkward smile. He’s one of the people from Alfred’s Instagram.

“Hi,” he says, his hands tapping awkwardly at his sides. He’s dressed in a sweater vest and slacks, and Ludwig still feels under dressed.

Alfred salutes him with two fingers and a grin. “Sup. Do me a favor, yeah? And hold out your hand?” He pauses and waves to the side. “Actually hit the lights first. I promise this going somewhere, Lud.”

Ludwig shifts his weight awkwardly from side-to-side.

Tolys reaches over and flips off the light switch. He holds out his hand, and Alfred grasps it, staring straight into Tolys’ eyes. Tolys blinks rapidly as Alfred releases his hand and waves for Tolys to hold up his. It’s glowing with the same shimmering dust wherever skin-to-skin contact was made. Ludwig blinks incredulously, looking from Tolys to Alfred to Tolys again.

“Alfred, please tell me next time you’re going to do that. You know your hand is really warm.” Tolys looks to Ludwig apologetically and wipes the dust off his hand with his pants. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine, but how did you get it off so easily?” Ludwig looks back to his own hand. It looks deceptively normal, but every night at sunset it’d begun to glow again. He looks to them both, his brows drawn. “And what is it?”

“I have magic han-” Alfred starts.

“He has a condition.” Tolys says simultaneously.

They exchange looks, Alfred chuckling nervously and Tolys wide-eyed.

“You-” Tolys says, concern soaked through his tone.

Alfred waves his hands in the air and smiles reassuringly in Ludwig’s direction. “I’m not crazy. It’s not dangerous. I can get it off your hands, and I can show you where it comes from, but you have to consent to viewing because it’s… it’s secret and stuff?”

“Jealously guarded company secrets.” Tolys supplies.

Alfred nods enthusiastically. “Not ready for the public yet, but it will uh, you know- well, it’s easier just to show you.”

“But if it’s secret-?” Ludwig says.

“Nah, it’s fine. You won’t be able to replicate it or anything.” He assures him. “You down? It’s chill if you aren’t.”

“As long as it’s safe and legal.”

“Of course. Awesome though. Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back, huh?” Alfred slaps him on the shoulder, no heat in his hands beyond a subtle warmth. “Follow me.”

Ludwig lets himself be led into the next room.

Papers lay scattered across the floor and desk, half-opened business folders and half-empty water bottles strewn amongst them. It isn’t horrendous relatively speaking, but Ludwig is screaming internally. Alfred follows his gaze and laughs.

“This is Tolys’ office. He’s sort of like my business partner, but he’s such a fucking mess. He’s great.” Alfred winks. “Because he makes me look clean. Are you a neat freak?”

Ludwig frowns, stopping with Alfred at the next door. “I wouldn’t call myself a neat freak, but I like to keep my surroundings as orderly as possible.”

“Sounds like you are one, but I guess I’ll find out soon.” Alfred raises a brow, his hand settled on the door knob. “Ready?” 

“As I’ll ever be.” He inhales and steels himself mentally. He isn’t sure why he’s continuing to agree with Alfred’s suggestions, but every time, Alfred has failed to exude any sense of doom. Where for him there’s usually unease there has been nothing but a tingling curiosity.

Alfred stops and looks him in the eye, levity in his bearing. “Just be ready to react, and keep your ears open for me.” 

Trepidation drops like a stone in Ludwig’s gut, but before he can voice any second thoughts, Alfred is forcing the door wide. 

Marble coats the walls to the floors, elegant pillars holding up the shifting ceiling. Galaxy nebulae like blots of purple-red watercolor span the dark blue of the ceiling. The gold-white stars shift across the ceiling as if the heavens themselves are being stirred into Van Gogh’s Starry Night, and white couches and a pristine kitchen lay just ahead, subtle black and gold accents cutting clean throughout the room.  

In the center lies a circular depiction of the sun, encircled by the couches and the glass coffee table between them. Pop music drifts in from speakers on the table in a strange mix between modern and classical, yet the strangest thing of all, is the windows looping around the room, open to what look like swaying fields of wheat.

Alfred jerks his head inside, grinning wide. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

Ludwig stares at him in surprise. “This is your… house?” It’s not at all what he expected.

“Sort of. This isn’t really what I wanted to show you, but hey.” He hops over the door step inside. “Come on in. We’ll get to it all eventually.”

Ludwig strides in, and behind him the doors shutter closed. He looks back in alarm, but instead of the plain wood double doors through which they’d entered elegant white marble doors arch across the entrance way. Gold like rays of falling light remain inlaid along the doors, and as he turns in Alfred’s direction, shimmering gold rushes over the floors and towards the center like a million fireworks coming to life against the marble in delicate patterns. Alfred glances back, a twinkle in his eyes.

“What-” Ludwig starts, but before he can finish, the sun piece in the center falls black as night.

Gold drains into bone white, and the lightened patterns on the floor bleed into deep blue sprinkled with purple nebulae and pinpricks of light. Alfred jumps back, surprise written across his features as the sun piece begins to spin and lower.

“Ludwig, I think we have company. This wasn’t what I was planning for,” Alfred says, his attention trained on the sun piece before them. “It’s probably not anything serious. I mean, hopefully it’s Katya-”

At that moment the sun piece drops, and footsteps sound heavy from beneath it. A man emerges from the center, clothed in wreathing black and crackling light.

“You’re still such a fool,” he says, his voice ice cold.

His back is still turned towards Ludwig, his beige hair blowing in the draft from below and his posture stock straight. Alfred waves his hands in the air, his weight shifted to one leg as he smiles in amusement.

“Hey. So it’s not Katya.” Alfred gestures to Ludwig with a hand. “It’s chill. I can take Ivan Braginsky down in a fight.”

Ivan turns, his eyes flashing from completely violet to humanlike in an instant. Ludwig does a double take, and then it hits him. It’s one of the people from Alfred’s instagram only far more corporeal and decidedly less human. Ivan’s eyes narrow, his form shifting into something more solid as his robes settle to the floor and the light and black around him recedes into nothingness. His lips pull thin, and he turns back to Alfred, his eyebrows drawn above his blue-darkened eyes.

“What do you seek to gain in this? This is ridiculous.” Ivan gestures to Ludwig in one sweeping motion, his arm thrown wide. “Does he even have Sight?”

“Well.” Alfred pulls out the word and crosses his arms over his chest. “We can always ask him. He’s right here. Hey, Ludwig, what did Braginsky look like to you when he walked in?”

Ludwig's mouth feels dry. Ivan’s presence has sucked the moisture straight from the air, and an uncomfortable tingling has spread across his arms, raising rows of goosebumps on his skin. This feels too real to be a dream. The ground is pulsing with his heart, every breath he takes echoed by a whistling from the open abyss like living chills across his skin.

“Like lightning.”

It leaves his lips before he can reconsider, syllables dropping like sledge hammers in the relative silence.

Alfred smiles. “Yeah, he does have Sight, Braginsky.”

Ivan waves a hand, and in the blink of an eye, his robes morph into a simple black sweater and a pair of slacks. He sighs and turns to face Ludwig, clasping his hands behind his back.

“I don’t approve,” he says.

Alfred snorts, observing Ludwig to Ivan’s side. “Oh yeah, you’re my mom, so you get to tell me how to live my life and run my business.”

Ludwig shifts uncomfortably beneath their scrutiny and swallows. Ivan seems oblivious to his discomfort, but as he debates on running for the door, Alfred starts forward with nonchalant swagger, his hands upheld in appeasement. He smiles, stopping by Ludwig’s side with his hands on his hips.

“You look like you’re in shock,” he says.

Ludwig swivels towards him. His head feels light, and he isn’t sure of what to think. “Is this a prank?”

Maybe the robes were an illusion. Amusement parks these days have fairly convincing special effects, and it’s possible that this room is set up for it. Alfred could be setting up to tell him he’s actually in special effects, and this was just a test run for a show excepting the itching feeling of off that persists. Reality still feels shifted a step to the left, and he can’t tell if it’s only nerves or something greater.

Alfred slaps Ludwig on the shoulder, pointedly catching Ivan’s gaze from the corner of his eye and leaning in towards Ludwig. His hand is too warm on his skin and his breath hot against his cheek. Ludwig freezes as Alfred begins to whisper.

“We’re waiting for him to leave.” He leans back, his hand leaving Ludwig’s shoulder. A strange loss settles in Ludwig’s stomach, and the atmosphere seems to drop five degrees. Alfred clears his throat, and hot shame rises to Ludwig’s ears in a deepening flush.

“Well, anyways, I was busy giving Ludwig a tour, so while it was awesome to see you, Braginsky, I’m going to have to end this reunion a little short.” Alfred drawls, gesturing vaguely to the still open floor, white gales swirling up from its depths. “Yeah, so, bye.”

Ivan raises his brows, unimpressed. “I don’t plan on allowing you to foolishly unveil more than is wise in so short a time.”

Alfred frowns. He turns back to Ludwig, studying him intently. “Hm, okay. Want to go for a trip behind the Veil?”

Ludwig looks to Alfred then to Ivan who remains unreadably tired. He isn’t sure anymore of the safety of this escapade or the credibility of Alfred. Mist swirls up from the abyss, painting a soft glow of bluish light on the surrounding tile, and the patterns on the floor stir black. He steels himself. In this age, as someone who’s been a legal adult for three-plus years, there’s little sense in being fearful of something that’s probably just for show. He takes a look at the other men and resigns himself to his fate. Even if this is all a ploy to murder in some back alley, he doubts he could escape. Alfred and Ivan are big men, so while Ludwig knows he’s fairly capable in a fight, he doubts he’d be able to take them both down at once.

“Is that down there?” He asks, forcing his voice level.

“Absolutely,” Alfred says.

“Okay, lead the way.”

Ivan sighs and starts down the stairs. “Jones, I still don’t approve of this.”

Alfred shrugs. “Sucks to not be my mom then.” He turns to Ludwig, voice lowered. “Hey, bro, you good?”

“I…” He looks towards where Ivan’s disappeared. “Who is he?”

“An old frenemy.” Alfred grins. “We go way back, but you’ll see. He won’t seriously try to do anything right now at least. I swear it. I’ve got a handle on him.”

Before Ludwig can say anymore, Alfred is guiding him towards the hole in the floor, his hand warm against his back. As they near the entrance, the pulsing sound of whispering voices and chiming bells rise above the pop music playing from the speakers. A cold draft emerges with the mist around his legs, and something in Ludwig recoils. He takes the steps down in multiples, his head lowered until he reaches the bottom.

It’s large, much larger than Ludwig expected. A sea of black soaked in the light of a million stars hangs suspended around them, blue tiles like a lily pad path of hexagons extending across the expanse, and the white marble stairs retracting into nothingness the instant his feet touch tile. It's like another world.

“I don’t plan on giving explanations for you.” Ivan’s voice echoes from all around him though he stands- no, hovers- just to Ludwig’s front.

He’s wreathed again in darkened tendrils, dressed in darkened robes and white lightning. There are prayers running like broken records between the bells, and Ludwig can barely breathe. The pressure increases like a physical weight on his chest, and he stumbles back, blind panic crawling up his throat. His foot catches, and for a second, he’s falling. But heat bursts at his waist like miniature stars on his skin.

“Woah there, cowboy.” Alfred is glowing at his side, his arm wrapped around his waist and his voice at his ear.

The pressure is gone, and instead, a gentle warmth spreads throughout his body and banishes a cold he hadn’t even fully felt. It hits him with an odd calmness. He doesn’t feel the need to breathe.

“Is this a dream?” Ludwig feels his voice reverberate from all angles.

Alfred lights down on the tile before him. He’s shifted into something ethereal. He’s glowing golden, a futuristic visor covering his hair and his eyes with a combination of white gold and glass. His irises have gone gold, and he’s dressed in a white high-collared suit, his belt accented gold and calf-hugging boots rising on his legs. Ludwig can see clearly the planes of his chest and the curves of his legs, and it brings a flushing heat to his cheeks. He looks almost like a cross between a racecar driver and a navy officer dipped in pure light.

Alfred breaks through his thoughts with the sound of his voice.

“Nah, but wow, look. Your hand and arm are glowing again. I forget it did that.” He steps to the side, and as he does, the soupy night around his feet bursts like newborn nebulae in a shower of light.

“That it glows?” He asks incredulously.

“Nah. That this place is the same as night in the mortal world.”

Ludwig looks down at his hand and arm, unsure of what to feel about the glowing handprints on his skin. This place feels less like a location than it does a being, and if this is where Alfred comes from, it makes perfect sense because everything is spun a full turn to the left.

“Mortal world? Is this a joke?”

Ivan raises his brows, looking progressively more unimpressed.

Alfred laughs. He walks around to his side and places his hand on Ludwig’s shoulder, emanating a scent like freshly cut fields. “No, we’re in another dimension sort of. For real. Okay.” He draws out the last syllable and squeezes his shoulder. “You look shell-shocked. You want explanations or out?”

“No, no, I’m fine. Is this… What are you? What…” He trails off.

“Okay, explanations.” Alfred points him upwards. “We can talk inside.”

Ludwig looks up, his eyes widening like saucers. Something like mist has cleared in the distance, and the tiles have multiplied. A myriad of colors bubble across the hexagonal tiles. Light blues, purples and pinks pulse across the extending surface, combining into a platform where a white building is settled and the sound of prayers lilt up from the interior. Alfred whistles, and the tiles slide smoothly forward, molding a wide path for him to follow.

“Let’s walk and talk?” Alfred says.

“Alright.” Ludwig nods, a sense of awe mingling with caution.

Alfred lands with a thud on the tiles while Ivan walks beside them atop the black sea, ripples lined with white sparks escaping at his every step. Uncertainty settles in his stomach like a sack of rocks, but when Alfred smiles, Ludwig's heart jumps to his throat.

“So before you ask about the getup, yeah, I am a superhero.”

“I wasn’t…” Ludwig’s brow furrows, and he stares at him in disbelief. “Wait. Like… Captain America?”

“Exactly like that.” Alfred nods, self-satisfied.

“He’s more of a Tony Stark than a Steve Rogers,” Ivan says.

“That's a complete lie. I’m totally Captain America,” His eyes roll beneath his visor. “Anyways, yeah! This is kind of like our hangout. Home base, you know? I just need someone to handle the everyday kind of stuff, so I can be out there dealing with shit. Which is where you come in.”

“Why show me this then?”

“It’s pretty obvious that my company isn’t super legit. Didn’t want you getting suspicious. Also, I really don't see a reason to keep you in the dark about this all, and I’ll probably need some help with less normal stuff, too.”

Ludwig wavers as they near the threshold of the building, his gaze running over the clean white lines and elegant pillars. It’s a modern structure, one rectangular prism upon another. A canopy extends from the front, upheld by two pillars and wide windows span the side of the building. Dark brown accents against the white, bringing a maturity to the light abstract design of the exterior and contrasting against the single sun motif drawn in gold above the door. The prayers grows louder.

Ludwig turns to Alfred and Ivan who join him at the door. “What kind of help?”

“Honestly it depends on the situation, but hopefully, nothing life-threatening.” Alfred waves a hand and the doors swing wide. “We can always get you life insurance. It’s all going to be in the contract. Don’t sweat it, Lud.”

“Okay.” A scent hits him like wildfire and rain in a combination distinctly Alfred. He shakes it off, overwhelmed, and turns his attention away. “What, er… superpowers do you have?”

Alfred steps inside and gestures towards the modern interior, registering no acknowledgement of the change. “Light based is the easiest way to put it. You saw the glowy shit. I can teleport, shapeshift, the works.”

“Are you a superhero as well?” Ludwig asks Ivan. There may be a chance that Alfred is mocking him, but something seems too genuine about his claims.

They step inside the wood-floored room, furnished with sleek white couches and shifting paintings on the wall. In the center, a spiraling staircase is supported by seemingly nothing but air alone. A sweeping counter follows the far wall behind, embedded with a multicolor arrangement of drinks, and the wide windows point to the black sea outside like openings to the abyss.

Ivan turns to him, a humorless smile on his face.

“No, mortal. I would hardly call any of my kind heroes.”

Alfred slaps their backs, cutting them both off from further comment, and guides them cheerfully towards the couches. “‘Nough chit chat, fellas. Let’s get that paperwork out and let Ludwig ask his questions while we’re not awkwardly standing in the middle of the room, yeah?”

Ludwig seats himself on the couch beside Ivan, feeling stiffer by the moment. The couch is nothing he’s ever felt before- like the childhood image of clouds as the cushion of a seat, and it’s all so different.

Alfred flips the visor up, and in the warm light of his home, his skin seems to shine at every shifting angle. Ludwig frowns in thought, watching with uncertainty as patterns seem to trace along his cheekbones like a trail of gold. Alfred grins, and Ludwig remembers a second too late that it’s rude to stare. He forces his gaze back to the little kitchen setup by the counter. The only visible light source is a row of hanging globes illuminated by miniature suns within the glass. Somehow they coat the room in an equally distributed golden warmth, adding once again to the oddity of the room.

“You guys want drinks?” Alfred reenters his field of vision as he moves towards the bar.

“I’ll just have a soda. Thank you,” Ludwig says.

He isn’t sure what sort of alcohol a superhero would have and whether or not Alfred has the discretion to make judgement calls regarding him and it. Alfred slides behind the bar, tugging off his glasses and up his sleeves. He slides a tanned brown arm across the surface and smiles brightly in his direction.

“You sure? I can mix you up something good. Fruity cocktails or something. I know you like sweet stuff. Braginsky, you want the usual?”  

“If you insist,” Ivan says, settling with his arms folded across his chest. 

Ludwig shifts in his char to see Alfred better. “Anything nonalcoholic is fine.” 

“Don’t drink?” Alfred asks, turning to begin retrieving what he needs. 

“Not so early in the day.” 

Alfred laughs at that and gestures a hand back towards him. “But remember, it’s night here all the time- party hour whenever you want. Just look at your hand. But nah, it’s good to have temperance. I respect that. One nonalcoholic drink coming right up.”  

Ludwig stares down at his glowing hand, turning it so the ambient light reflects off it in sheaths. 

“Ridiculous, isn’t it?” Ivan says, bored in both tone and expression. 

“Er… Sorry?” 

“I mean Alfred’s habit of leaving handprints everywhere.” Ivan gestures to Ludwig before crossing his arms back over his chest. “He lacks self-discipline.” 

“What do you mean?” He rubs his arm self-consciously where the glowing is present.  

His thoughts drift idly to every time Alfred has made contact with him, and as the memory of an arm against his back, a hand on his shoulder, a brush of his fingers returns Ludwig feels a hot flush rising to his neck. He’s unsure of how Alfred plans to remove the dust, but his thoughts have already begun to stray towards uncomfortable potential solutions.  

Ivan shifts in his chair, moving to rest his forearms on his knees and pulling his attention back to the present. “You see, when strong emotion arises, mortals such as yourself blush. For beings like myself and Jones, there is more that can occur.” 

He pauses as the sound of Alfred speed-walking over cuts in, and drinks are set on the table between them. One glass is clear, gold liquid seeping down from the dissolving ice atop, and the other is a light pink-red topped with mint, strawberry slices and lemon. He leans across the little table and grins at them both, a subtle redness in his cheeks.  

“Why don’t we talk about less awkward topics to start off, Braginsky?” He nods to Ludwig. “I’m sure you want to get the glowy shit off, huh? Why don’t we do that first actually? The drinks will stay cold.” 

Ludwig stands instinctively as Alfred moves towards the back, waving a hand behind him. Alfred calls back when Ivan begins to sit up from his hunched position. “Stay here, bro. I’ve got to get him cleaned up.” 

Ivan sighs, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms back over his chest. “Be quick then. We still need to discuss some things.”

Ludwig glances back, lighting on Ivan’s wreathing crackle of light for just a moment before he forces his gaze away.

Alfred moves towards the door, and silently, they slip out to the back.

Bird songs and the distant sound of chanting hit him in a flurry of sound. He can smell honeysuckle and herbs, and past the greenery strewn path, a bubbling spring flows ahead. Alfred shuts the door with a click, the dappled sunlight filtering in through the trees and light and shadow painting across his skin. He walks towards the spring, and Ludwig follows. As they near the flowing water, the bell chimes grow in volume, and a sense of life pumps hot through his veins.

Alfred stills at the water’s edge and smiles apologetically. Ludwig stops beside him.

“So here’s where you can wash up. It’s magic water.”

Ludwig bends towards the water, his arms extended, before looking to Alfred. “Do I just stick my hands in?”

“Yup, bro. Dive right in.”

Ludwig plunges his hands in the water, marveling at the tingling freshness that shoots up his arm. He scrubs at his hand, and to his amazement, the dust begins to slide off like tangible grains of sand. He drops to his knees and splashes water on his arm all the while doing his best to avoid awkward eye contact with Alfred. The gold dust turns white and floats off with the current until none is left visibly on his skin, leaving him to settle awkwardly back on his haunches and look again to Alfred.

“Er… I think there might be some on my back.”

“Oh-” Alfred sticks his hands in his pockets, jerking his head to the side. “Need me to leave?”

“No, it’s fine. I mean if it’s fine with you.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s fine!” Alfred laughs and looks down towards his feet. “Sorry. Awkward.”

Ludwig does his best to smile. After undoing his buttons, he pulls his shirt off and folds it loosely to the side. He lingers, already regretting his lack of forethought in this decision.

“You good, bro?” Alfred steps closer, leaning in.

“Do you mind wiping it of for me? I can’t see my back very well.”

Alfred nods quickly, taking a knee beside him and tugging up his sleeves an inch or two more. He sticks his hands in the water and begins to rub his hands across Ludwig’s skin. His hands are warm and calloused, the tingling energy emanating into his skin at every movement. He shivers involuntarily, heat rushing to his face, and Alfred stops, his hands hovering just above his skin.

“Something wrong?” Concern seeps through his tone, and Ludwig’s heart flips at the unexpected tenderness.

He swallows hard at his own involuntary reaction and shakes his head. “You’re fine. I just didn’t expect the heat.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry.” Alfred breathes out a laugh. “I’m a little bit touchy-feely, so it’s probably annoying to have my hot hands all over you. Like… not in a weird way or anything- gods, you know what I mean.”

“No, it’s alright.” He pauses. “But what did Ivan mean about you leaving handprints?” 

Alfred resumes his rubbing only to pause again at his question. “Nothing probably. You know he doesn’t like me that much. Dude’s always trying to push my buttons, and it’s fucking annoying sometimes.” 

“Have you two always… disagreed?” 

Alfred runs his hands sideways across his back, wringing his hands to the side and swiping his skin with his now-pulled down sleeve. Ludwig can feel him mentally shrug as he settles back with a thump on the grass. 

“Not always. We used to be buddy-buddy, but times change. What can you do?” 

“Oh, I see.”

“Anyways!” Alfred springs to his feet, tossing Ludwig’s shirt into his hands in one smooth movement. “We’re done with cleanup. You ever get massages, Lud?”

Ludwig stands and unfolds his shirt. “No. Why do you ask?”

“You’re tense as hell. Life’s better when you’ve got your back muscles working nice and smooth.” Alfred moves to slap his back playfully before pausing mid-air. “Hm, better get out of this habit or put my gloves back on. Sorry, bro.”

“Does that fabric stop it?” Ludwig slips on his shirt, doing his best to ignore the repeating ghost of Alfred’s hands on his back. “And I’m not sure. I’ve never considered getting a massage before.”

“One of these days I’m giving you one, but yes and no. To the first thing. If I’m wearing gloves it’ll stop the dusting, but if you’re wearing gloves, and I’m not, and I grab your hands, shit’ll still get on you. ‘Course no fabric’s stopping me if I’m trying to dust someone or something.”

Ludwig nods, tucking his shirt back in his pants. “That’s fascinating. The dust is just something you produce then? Naturally?”

“Basically, yeah! You’ve probably noticed my hands are warm. I can burn people through skin-to-skin contact, and at that point the dust can be poisonous. It gets redder, and it also stays a long ass time, like, way longer than it usually does.”

“It comes off on its own?”

“Eventually, yeah, but it really depends on a lot of factors- intention, my mood, lots of things, so it’s just easier to hit up the spring, but generally speaking, I don’t bring a lot of people down here.”

“But what was your reasoning behind choosing me to fill your open position? Is Tolys a… an immortal as well?” Something creeps up in the back of his mind like jealousy. He knows its irrational, but a part of him wants to be something out of the ordinary to Alfred, to be, for once, someone who stands out.

“Tolys is.”

Ludwig breathes a mental relief.

“And like I said before I like your energy. Mortals like you are rare.” The statement rolls so casually from his lips, and in that moment, Ludwig can almost see ages past flash through Alfred’s eyes, his enveloping glow casting divine light on his features.

“Aren’t there better options?”

“Nah. If you mean people who knew more from the start or could handle finances in their sleep or weren’t awkwardly cute, it’s better to have someone who isn’t so set in their ways, you know? You’re more open to me- well, to us- being weird. The last part’s just an added bonus.” Alfred winks, and Ludwig forgets every other question he’d meant to ask.

He blushes, flustering at his own lack of composure, and clears his throat as best he can. “Should we go back in? Because Ivan…?”

“Oh, yeah. Probably. I’m not scared of him or anything, but he’s already in a shitty mood. We should probably go in before he calls Nat.” Alfred starts walking forward. “Nat is his sister by the way. She’s bat shit insane, and I really don’t feel like introducing you to her this early on. Trust me on that one.”

“Noted. Does she… look like him?”

Ludwig follows, marveling absentmindedly at the thriving nature around them and the lighting warmth pulsing through the gardens. It’s unnatural to have light without the sun, but somehow a sense of nostalgic déjà vu permeates like sunlight through the very atmosphere.

“If you mean from a mortal point of view, yeah, sort of. If you mean powerwise, they’re… yeah? Two sides of the same coin. You were right when you said lightning. He’s her lightning, and she’s his thunder.”

Ludwig does his best to refrain from making a pun and continues on. “Then are you the sun?”

“Sort of.” Alfred pauses before the door and winks. “What gave it away? My undeniable hotness or was it all the fucking gold?”

“Mostly the sun motifs everywhere.” Ludwig replies. “What about Tolys?”

“Generalized nature spirit. It’s why he’s not always around. Tolys doesn’t do super awesome in cities.”

“I see.” He wants to ask more but waits as Alfred opens the door for them to enter.

Ivan is nearly just as they left him, leaned back against the couch and done in his expression. The difference lies in the half-emptied drink in his hand and the blonde girl standing at his side. She turns towards them, her skirts billowing like storm clouds above her bare feet. Black and gray vapor weave into an opaque breastplate, and a veil like dripping rain is draped over her shoulders, her eyes stirring a piercing gray-blue likes marbles instead of eyes. She’s pale as porcelain, lithe as a dancer, yet drawn as a longbow, and her lips curl back at the sight of them.

Alfred frowns and tugs his sleeves down, his gloves materializing back on his hands.

“Guys, not cool. Quit coming here uninvited.”

She starts forward, and Ivan stands. Her voice crackles like booming thunder. “Stop wasting precious time, Jones. We don’t have any fucking patience for your _bullshit_.”

“You worry too much, Nat.”

Ludwig can feel the tension rise, the smell of a coming storm soaking cold through the air and the line of Alfred’s shoulders going taut at the exchange. This must be Ivan’s sister. They share the same cold features and unnerving bearing, but where Natalya is lean, Ivan is built like a wall.

“You think with your dick.” She says, clipped.

“Okay, okay, woah. Braginsky, what is this?” He points to her. “Did you call your little sister over here to cuss me out? We could’ve settled this way back in the beginning.”

“I didn’t summon her.” Ivan sets his drink on the table, his voice level.

“We’re settling this later, okay? I’m going to get the paperwork.” Alfred disappears through a side door, leaving Ludwig alone with the siblings.

“This is bullshit. Don’t sign a fucking thing he gives you.” Natalya says, her voice reverbing within the room.

“Beilschmidt,” Ivan says, “You don’t want to get involved in our world. It’s better to live in blindness than to open your eyes to the dangers because mere association with any one of us will increase risks of all kinds tenfold. Decline now. He won’t argue with you.”

The hair on his arms rises as electricity charges through the air, faint but present enough to be felt. Ludwig frowns in thought, a thousand questions dancing across his mind.

“Why is he so desperate to hire me?”

“He thinks you can stop what’s coming.” Ivan reaches for his drink once again. “Don’t misinterpret my words, mortal. There is comfort, riches, pleasure- that comes with acceptance. He lacks little in power, but once you agree, there’s little able to bring you back to blissful ignorance.”

“Would it be deadly?” Ludwig hesitates.

“Driving down the street can be deadly. There is always danger.”

“Vanya.” Natalya’s voice gains an almost softness despite the thundering distortion as she speaks her brother’s name. “He’s coming back. We’ll deal with the dumbass later.”

“Wise.” Ivan moves towards the door, Natalya behind him, and before Ludwig can finish questioning if he or Alfred is the dumbass, they’re gone.

A lulling comfort seeps slowly into his bones, overriding his building fight or flight response and easing him into a state where he feels urged to sit rather than stand. He takes a seat, perplexed as to who to believe. It’s foolish to take this opportunity so willingly. Even Alfred’s friends seem volatile, and Ludwig is unsure as to Alfred’s own self-control. The promise of high salary and superhuman company is tempting, but the risks may outweigh the benefits.

The side door swings back open, and Alfred returns, his visor beneath his arm and papers in his free hand. He runs his hand through his hair, tousling it every which way much to his seeming obliviousness.

“Did they leave?” Alfred asks, stress seeping through his tone.

“Yes.” Ludwig looks over Alfred’s features. He can read a lingering irritation between the distress in the pull of his brows and thin pressing of his lips.

“Damn, they piss me off sometimes.” Alfred sets the papers down on the small table before pausing and gesturing to his drink. “Did you try it yet?”

“Oh-” Ludwig reaches for the, as promised, still chilled drink. “No, not yet.”

“I mean, you don’t have to.” He laughs. “Sorry that was totally not how- This was not how I planned this to be. See what I meant about Nat though?”

“She’s… She seemed volatile.”

“Yup. That’s a pretty accurate description. What did you think about them similarity wise though? Think they looked the same?”

Ludwig thinks back to the sharp nose and thin face of Natalya, acknowledging her conventional attractiveness, and then to the solidity of Ivan’s build, the squared slab of his jaw, the hooded intensity of his violet eyes. He’d been attractive in an off-putting way, and while they had differed significantly, both siblings had shared enough physical traits to be obviously related.

“Yes, I think so. They were both attractive individuals.”

“Ew.” Alfred snorts. “Okay, nah, you’re right. Nat is hot, but last time I told her that I almost lost my fingers. Ivan, too, though? You into hunky Russian men, huh, Lud?”

Ludwig flushes bright red, starting from his ears and neck up. Sharing his preferences is something he does with few, and though a number of people already know, Ludwig is unsure of whether he’s ready to tell someone like Alfred.

“No.” Ludwig lies. “Don’t be silly.”

Alfred seems to sense his unwillingness to share and moves seamlessly on. “Hey, so these are the papers. You think you’re in for the job?”

Ludwig wavers, his gaze drifting towards the paperwork and the cold from the drink seeping into his hand. “Will you give me one more day to decide?”

Ludwig knows he should decline now. Something tells him nothing but wild adventure can come from acceptance, and that in the present, college should be his focus. Nevertheless, he knows a part of him is whispering that regret will plague him for the rest of his days if he declines, that he’ll be cursed to monotony after having peeked through the window to something greater.

Alfred nods, concern in his face. “Did she tell you something about me?”

“They said it would be dangerous.”

“It’s possible, but Ludwig, I can protect you. You can take your time to decide, but I can provide almost anything you need to live, bro. The benefits are greater than the risks.”

“What else is out there?”

“Plenty of things, Lud. Most of which I don’t plan on encountering. Trust me. It’ll be ninety percent of the time not life threatening. Technically all this stuff could’ve killed you before, too. You’ve seen things before, right?”

“I…” Ludwig pauses, past memories of suspicious smiles pushed away by the flick of a tail, of tiny wings and a glimpse of miniature human legs, of unnaturally bright scales and too intelligent eyes. He sobers, recognizing the solemnity of this decision. “How many people have the capability to see your world?”

“Damn few. Though they tend to flock together. I’m surprised you’re not… uh, weird? I don’t know. People with Sight are usually not functioning members of society, you know. It makes them wonky. That’s why you’re special.” Alfred smiles sheepishly. “Not in a weird way ‘course.”

Ludwig feels a little swell of pride at Alfred’s statement, a twitch of a smile playing up on his lips. “I’m glad you don’t see me as overtly socially inept.”

“I’ve seen way worse. Besides, I think it’s really cute how you’re so business oriented. Very earnest.” He grins.

Ludwig cheeks tint once again. “Funny. Most find it annoying.”

“Nooo,” Alfred says in exaggerated disbelief. He takes a seat and slips his visor back. “You’re kidding me.”

“No, not at all. They find me too harsh.” He shrugs. “I’ve accepted it by now.”

“Bro,” Alfred says again, his golden eyes shining as he smiles at Ludwig. “Also hey, you should try my drink.”

Ludwig wiggles his now uncomfortably numb fingers, tapping them on the glass before bringing it up to his lips and drinking. It tastes like liquid chocolate strawberries, dusted with fresh citrus and a tinge of minty kiwi. He pulls back in surprise, looking to Alfred with raised brows.

“Hella good, isn’t it?” Alfred says, a hint of genuine question in his tone.

“Yes, what is it?” He lifts his drink.

“Magic, Lud. We’ve got things here you’ve never dreamed of, but-” He stops, bending down and resting his arms on the back of the armchair beside him. “-listen. There is danger involved. I don’t want to lie to you, so while I’m not saying there isn’t risk, but I’ve got people at my back, and you’ll have me at your back. Just- yeah, you’re rare. I’d love to have you on my team.”

Alfred holds out the papers to him and nods, a gravity to his bearing. Ludwig sets down his drink and takes them. It’s surreal to have this glowing being offer him a key into another dimension, to have the curtain pulled back from the glimpses he’s been offered. Alfred smiles again, standing and leaning his weight on one leg.

“Yeah, so no pressure, bro. You can bring ‘em back tomorrow- signed or not.”

“What time?” He moves to stand, and it feels like walking through a dream.

“Same time, same place.”

Ludwig nods in assent and starts towards the door.


	3. hidden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to my dear friend, [Shelbi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OccupationLove), for beta reading the first two chapters and some of this one for me! This is another chapter for [GerAme week](gerame-week.tumblr.com), and the prompt for this was "Through the Storm." Brace yourself before you read, and enjoy! Please feel free to comment, reblog, kudo, etc.! 
> 
> The aesthetic for this chapter can be found [here](https://realmwrites.tumblr.com/post/177482145117/expanse-this-is-the-scent-of-rot-no-he).

_When the gods wish to punish us they answer our prayers._

_\- Oscar Wilde_

“You may bring a companion.”

The space around them ripples with a blinding darkness, blotting out the color and light so characteristic of this place beyond the Veil. A million discordant notes run across the broken wails of the multitude. The creature’s innumerable arms grasp at the nothingness, and its eyes blink like slits of green on its face. Alfred frowns into the suffocating dark, the light that envelopes him pushing it back in waves.

There is no advantage to conflict in this place, but Alfred is itching to crush the rising dark. The creatures of Night grow stronger by the hour, and with them, he grows restless.

“Sounds good.” He kicks back, floating idly beside it.

“No immortals. Bring another.” It curls around the words, propelling back his light with a beat of its wings, its horns glinting in the dimming luminescence.

“And if I don’t feel like it?” Alfred’s lips curl upwards in a threatening smile, no humor in his eyes.

“No promises, Light. You’ll enter my dominion on my terms.”

“Hm, okay. Give me that oath of no harm, and we have a deal.”

“Perfect.” He can nearly see it smiling. “It’s good to see all you unnecessary pomp hasn’t completely destroyed your reason.” One hand moves forward from the masses.

Alfred takes it, staring it straight in the eyes and ignoring the pricking claws tearing into his skin. One eye closes in a wink before the creature begins to speak, its voice wrapping band upon band of light and dark along their wrists. It falls back at the close and retreats to the Chaos. Alfred grimaces.

“It’s done,” it says.

“As it should be. I’ll see you soon, van der Meer.”

He wrings his hands, cursing as drops of golden ichor disperse into the sea.

 

* * *

 

“Wait, you did WHAT?” Gilbert’s voice crackles through the phone speakers.

Ludwig yanks the phone away from his ear, cringing at the volume, and Eliza settles back on the couch, amusement in her smile. He rubs his forehead with his palm and shifts uncomfortably.

“I just told you. I’m working as a personal assistant now.”

“No, no, I heard that part, but this isn’t the ‘let’s map out every fucking order he’s ever had because I want some all-American dick’ guy for you, is it?”

Ludwig groans in shame. Gilbert had let him go through nearly his entire story before, just after his description of Alfred, deciding to be obnoxiously dramatic. This is typical of him, but for some reason, Ludwig allowed himself to hope today would be different. His thoughts are interrupted by Eliza stifling a snort, resigning him ever further to a humiliating fate.

“Luddy, use your words. Why am I only hearing about this now?”

“Because I knew you’d react like this.”

“You could’ve conveniently left out who specifically you got hired by.”

“You would’ve asked, and you were acting fairly normal for most of it.”

“Awh.” Gilbert draws it out, and something creaks on his side of the line, painting Ludwig a picture of his brother, chin in his hands, on his own couch miles away. “This is why I love you. You’re so trusting.”

“ _Bruder…_ ” Ludwig half-whines.

“ _Bruder_ what?” Gilbert parrots back.

“I don’t know. Don’t you have something helpful to say?”

Gilbert gasps theatrically. “Rude! Is that how you speak to the man who taught you everything you know?” He pauses. “Okay, but I do have words of wisdom to bestow upon you. You still like him, don’t you?”

“I… What? Of course, I like him. I wouldn’t have accepted the job offer if I thought we wouldn’t get along.”

Eliza leans over and snags the phone from his grasp before he can react. “Oh, he likes him alright. It’s always ‘Alfred this’ and ‘Alfred that.’ He’s like a puppy. You can almost see his tail wagging when he-”

Ludwig scrambles for the phone, holding it as far from her as he can. “Eliza!”

“Awh, Luddy.” Gilbert says through a bark of laughter before sobering once more. “Okay, but in all seriousness, be careful. Don’t get your heart broken. Don’t invest too much into this guy. You know rich people can’t be trusted. Although it would be kind of awesome if you had a sugar daddy. You could buy your loving older brother _so_ much shit.”

“That’s what I told him!” Eliza says.

Ludwig brings the phone back to his ear, sighing heavily. “I’ll be fine, and no, that’s not going to happen. He’s very far out of my league.”

“Don’t talk yourself down like that, Lud. You deserve the world, ‘kay? I didn’t raise a quitter, but I also didn’t raise a dumbass, so just- you know- balance it.”

 _Whatever that looked like._ Ludwig smiles slightly. “Okay, Gilbert. I think Eliza wants to talk to you now.”

“Cool. Take care of yourself, baby bro, and keep me updated.”

“I’ll try my best.” He hands the phone to Eliza, smiling again as she eagerly takes it.

He moves to stand, marveling at how easily his life has shifted, and rolls his shoulders back. It’s time to start packing.

 

* * *

 

Amsterdam is riddled with people, gabled homes and vibrant flower beds lining the streets. All across the city bike lanes criss cross the streets, and cyclists whiz at closer proximity to one another than Ludwig finds comfortable. The shop fronts display everything from steaming bread to the latest fashion to tourist trinkets to the passersby, and the rumble of traffic brings the business of city life to the forefront of his mind. Trees edge the sidewalks. Boats float on the canals, and people stroll over the bridges. It’s well put-together for a city known for its drugs and prostitution, and Ludwig is pleasantly surprised.

It’s still a change to be back in Europe with the age old buildings and reserved populace after the hustle and bustle of New York City, skyscrapers and all. Alfred sticks out like a sore thumb from amongst the Dutch, and Ludwig can’t help but be amused despite the levity of their situation. He knows they’re here for business, and from Alfred’s demeanor, not any that’s pleasant.

Alfred reaches out and rests his arm on Ludwig’s seat, his hand gripping the top. “So! What are your thoughts? You liking Amsterdam?”

“It’s nicer than I expected.” He muses, staring out the windows at the gray cover above. “Does it get crazier at night?”

“Honestly, I have no fucking clue. We could party it up later tonight if you want.” Alfred grins.

“No thank you.” His lips twitch upwards. “You know parties aren’t my scene.”

“I thought you might say that. But yeah, I don’t think we’re really going to want to come back out here anyways. It’s going to be pretty draining from what I’m expecting.”

“Hm. You said this was a business trip, yes? Who exactly are we meeting with again, and what am I supposed to do?”

“Business trip is right, and basically, you’re my plus one.” Alfred turns at the next street, and slowly the buildings begin to fade, leaving a landscape of green grass and leafy trees stretching outside the windows. “He’s just an old competitor of mine, and it shouldn’t take too long. In and out is what I’m hoping for. You just have to stay by me and be charming.

“Just a warning. It’s going to be a shitty meeting, so sorry in advance, but we’re going to make the most of it, and not let this guy ruin our vacation! Sightseeing is going to be fucking awesome, yeah, Lud?”

Ludwig peers out the windows, searching for any strip of sea, and nods. “I am looking forward to it. I’ve never been in the Netherlands, and as for those requirements, I can be pleasant, but-” He smiles slightly. “-charming may be pushing my capabilities.”

“Just look at that little smile.” Alfred grins. “You’re already charming me off my feet. Imagine what you’ll do to all the ladies at the place we’re meeting him. You’ll be fine, Lud. It’ll be easy. All you have to do is be polite and sit still. Easy enough, right?”

“Well, I’m not six, so that shouldn’t be too hard.” Ludwig propped his chin up on his hand, pointedly looking away from Alfred to hide his slight flush. “How far are we from the harbor?”

“Oh, few minutes at most. We’ll be there real soon.”

Ludwig watches as the buildings return, more metal than brick, and the grassy lawns clear out the woods. Industrial projects lay strewn about the city, but he still can’t make out the shore. He leans back in his chair, closing his eyes as Amsterdam blurs by and the pop song on the radio drifts across him in waves. Slowly, blue begins to peek out from between the buildings and beyond the lots, pricking Ludwig back to awareness. He squints into the distance, his attention fixed on the harbor and the ships bobbing like toys upon its rolling waves. He can see the mist settling gray in the atmosphere and taste the salt on his tongue. Questions dance across his mind- the where, the who, the what, but it’s minutes before Alfred speaks again.

He wiggles his fingers on the steering wheel, his tone unconvincingly casual and his gaze set straight ahead. “Hey, uh, random question.”

“Yes?”

“Can you fight?”

Ludwig stops and turns fully in his seat, his brows drawn. “Why? Are we going to have to fight someone? I thought you said this would be ‘lax.’”

“Okay, so maybe lax was the wrong way to word it.” Alfred waves a finger. “But I’m one hundred percent sure that this is going to be totally safe. Just if something did happen it’d make me feel better to know you can fight.”

“That statement made no sense, but to answer your question, I can fight some.” He settles back in his seat.

“Like how much is some? Some as in you took karate once or some as in you’ve been out in the streets and taken someone down.”

“When I was younger, I would get into fights. Eliza taught me some things, but recently, I’ve only been in one. Foolish mistake on my side.”

“Dude, your Eliza friend sounds cool as fuck. I still want to meet her.” Alfred come to a stop at the intersection and glances over. “Okay, but did you win? Like, are you good in a fight? That kind of shit.”

“Yes, I won, but the other person was drunk.” Ludwig squints at Alfred. “I’m not useless in a fight, but what’s the point of this interrogation? We aren’t doing anything suspicious, are we?”

Alfred takes a turn towards the water, shrugging. “Depends on your definition of suspicious, but hey, are you afraid of getting a little wet?”

“No, why-” Ludwig stops in alarm as Alfred accelerates full speed towards the water.

Gray-brown buildings blur by as the lapping waves grow closer, the distant sound of city life beating behind them. A gull flies by overhead, and Ludwig’s heart freezes in his chest.

“ _Alfred-_ ” He starts.

“We’re going swimming.” Alfred floors the pedal, and the car plunges off the edge, the water enveloping them in a bubbling dark.

The car begins to sink. Water seeps in through the cracks, and the overpowering stench of saltwater and fish floods his nostrils. Ludwig stills in muted horror, processing in disbelief that Alfred is still talking.

“-His name is Bastiaan van der Meer. He’s fucking powerful, and he wants me dead. It’s okay though! We’re under a no harm oath. It’s a deal. Also, hold your breath. Don’t freak. I’ve got it under control.”

Heat immediately ripples out from Alfred, light bursting from his being and his signature white uniform appearing on his person. The only difference lies in the shape of the helmet as the bottom extends into a sleek airtight mask. Alfred yanks it off his head and slides it on Ludwig, pressing a button that seals it up as the water finally reaches their heads. He jams open both their seat belts and inhales sharply.

“What? Why are you only telling me this now?” Ludwig cringes at the volume of his own voice against the helmet’s sides. “Alfred-!?”

“Knowledge is power. Liability. Just follow me, okay?” Alfred ducks beneath the water level as the car finally submerges.

He pulls back and kicks the door hard, accomplishing the superhuman feat of forcing it open. He swims out, coming around the other side and somehow yanking it wide. Dark water rushes in from every side. Sunlight shafts in from seeming miles away, and silver fish dart away in fear. Alfred kicks to the front, wrenching it open, and suddenly, the car begins to change.

Alfred ducks in the closing side as new metal and glass extend across the breaks. The displays blink to life, and new ones unfold from the ceiling until, before he knows it, a telltale bubbling from behind is propelling them forward. The water drains out at last, leaving Ludwig to marvel as the seats turn from fabric to watertight plastic, and warm air blows out from the vents.

“Okay, sorry.” Alfred swivels around in his chair, one leg tossed over the other. “We can talk now.”

Ludwig pulls off the helmet and exhales heavily. “Alfred. _What the hell_.”

Alfred smiles sheepishly, running a hand through his dripping hair. “Um, sorry. Yeah, I probably should’ve told you to wear something waterproof.”

“You literally drove off the pier with no warning. I thought we were going to die. I nearly had a heart attack.”

“Okay, okay, I swear I have explanations.”

Ludwig hands him the helmet and settles back in his seat, pushing back the stray strands of hair from his face.

“Knowledge is power, right? So it’s kind of like if I told you before, there was a small change that we would’ve been caught, and if you’d known anything, you would’ve been in danger. We couldn’t risk that. _I_ couldn’t risk that, but okay, I promise next time I know we’re going to do something bat shit insane I’ll say ‘Remember Amsterdam?’ Is that okay?” Alfred stares at him expectantly, genuine concern in his eyes.

Ludwig softens, a warmth blooming in his chest at Alfred’s earnestness. He sighs in mock exhaustion and does his best not to smile, gesturing towards their dripping clothes. “That sounds good, but I sincerely hope this van der Meer character doesn’t care about his floors. We look like idiots.”

“Watch and learn, Lud.” Alfred swivels around to face the front, holding out his hands ahead of him. They begin to glow gold, the sensation of the summer sun against a waving meadow permeating the little craft. It fades as quickly as it comes, and Alfred swivels back, completely dry.

He grins. “Your turn.”

“How?” Ludwig asks. “I’m not magical like you.”

“Glad you think I’m magical.” Alfred winks before offering him his hands.

He does his best not to react and nods. “Fingertips, Alfred. It’ll be less obvious that way.”

Alfred nods in agreement, and Ludwig sets his fingertips atop Alfred’s. Gradually, heat flows from his fingers to his body, rolling into his clothes in grain-scented waves. The glowing subsides, and Alfred lingers, the crease of concentration in his brow smoothing over. His hands are uncharacteristically ungloved, revealing the telltale golden trails on the back of his hands and wrists that Ludwig has come to recognize. Alfred clears his throat, pulling his hands back to his lap, and Ludwig looks quickly away, flushing lightly.

“So yeah, we’re getting close,” Alfred says.

“Good to know. Why no gloves today?”

“They’re not allowed. We’re going to his tavern basically, and yeah, no gloves which sucks. I guess I could’ve put them on for that but…” Alfred gestures to his hands.

Ludwig inspects his fingers and shrugs. “It shouldn’t be an issue as long as we leave before night fall.”

“Yeah, you’re right, and it shouldn’t take that long.”

The vehicle shudders as a heavy force tugs at its belly, a scattering of sand polluting the area before them. Alfred spins and grabs the wheel, concentration soaking through his features. Ludwig leans forward in his seat. He squints into the expanse of blue as the dust begins to settle and shift, the urge to retract itching at his mind. Something dark seems brushing against their car’s front, glimpses of a yawning emptiness filtering through the dust. Ludwig’s stomach drops as it settles. A shifting chasm looms to their front.

“Hold on. We’re going down.” Alfred slows as they near the edge, leaning in to peer down the blackened ravine.

It’s pulsing with a conscious sentience, yet it feels different from the Veil. Something sinister seems to be calling him to plunge into the darkness with a voice far stronger than physical, and it’s twisting his stomach into knots.

Alfred glances over, smiling in worry. “You good?”

“He really does want you dead.” Ludwig mutters. “You’re positive this is safe?”

“Almost for sure.” Alfred does a thumbs up. “No, I’m sure. I made an oath of no harm. You can’t break those, so yeah, I promise this is safe. Physically, at least. It might be a tiny bit, uh… disturbing mentally.”

“What do you mean?”

“Things aren’t exactly how they’re supposed to be in the trenches. Reality goes sideways. And van der Meer is… different. We’re not going too deep, so it should be fine, but you should be ready for that in case it isn’t.”

“Like how beyond the Veil, it’s spun to the left.”

“Sure.” Alfred nods, jamming in another set of buttons and keying in a phrase. “But it feels more inside out than turned.”

“Okay, and all I have to do is follow you and look pleasant?”

“Exactly.” Alfred grins at him. “I’d slap your back, but I think if I let go we’d go fucking down. Either way, you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” Ludwig exhales as Alfred lets the vehicle drop.

The clawing, engulfing darkness amplifies immediately within the canyon walls. Ludwig’s stomach leaps into his throat, and the hairs on his arms raise in goosebumps. Within the jagged walls of the trench, the abyss between them yawns wider and blacker than before, the stirring of the same entity sending chills down his spine and soaking the crushing darkness like a suffocating fog. It feels like molasses in his lungs, tangible and sticky in ways that it shouldn’t be. Ludwig grits his teeth. It’s unnerving, uncomfortable, but he’s been with Alfred long enough to simply trust. Alfred would never willingly let him come to harm.

Alfred yanks up on the wheel, the sheen of sweat on his forehead illumined by light from the vehicle. His characteristic aura seems to be flickering as if the darkness is washing him down in waves, and his golden glow has gone almost white. He propels the vehicle forward, struggling to move horizontally forward. He grunts in effort, and slowly, the shadow of a cave mouth begins to open ahead. Ludwig shifts his gaze back ahead, his knuckles white on the seat rests.

White metallic streaks glow eerily along the sidewalls, the opening swallowing them up like a shark’s mouth and the rhythmic beat of song echoing out from the interior. The light is more off putting than the darkness. Shadows dance along the walls and unnatural green intertwines between the glowing white, creating enough shadow to ignite the imagination.

“Gods, the asshole’s already trying to one-up me.” Alfred flowers into the emerging light.

Ludwig tenses in uncertainty as the cave begins to open. They rise, emerging above the water level in what appears to be a harbor lined with boats of all makes and colors. Yellow lamp posts cast a sickly light over the rocks, and a stone path leads from the bank to a set of elegant wooden doors. Alfred steers them to the path, his jaw clenched.

“There’s no one at the doors. What’s he playing at?” He murmurs into the heavy dark.

The vehicle scrapes along the gravel, the tide lapping at its belly, and hums to a stop, the displays blinking down into darkness. Claustrophobia itches at Ludwig’s skin, and Alfred leans forward in his seat, his body tensed. He pushes open his door and lands on the wet gravel beneath them. Music edges out from the door cracks, interwoven with the tangible dark and tugging up Ludwig’s breakfast with its plucking beat. Alfred gestures him forward, his eyes narrowed over the blackened waters.

“Coming?” He says.

Ludwig opens his door and clambers out. The ground is solid beneath his feet, but so is the air, and it coils like snakes in his lungs. He takes a shuddering breath, exhaling with a whistle. “It’s just inside then?”

“Damn straight.” Alfred gestures him forward. “You first. I don’t like you so close to that water. This whole places just reeks of Night, and I don’t like it.”

He tries to inhale deeply, the noxious night sending a scent like costly alcohol and women’s perfume drowning out the scent of the sea. He starts forward, the gravel crunching beneath his feet.

“Are you okay? You sound strangled,” Alfred says, his voice echoing against the cavern walls.

“Hard to breathe. The atmosphere feels… alive.” The air whistles through his clenched teeth. He steps on the stone path and trudges up.

“Gross.” Alfred spits into the gravel below. “But hey, if it gets too bad let me know. This isn’t going to be sunshine and rainbows.”

“It’s okay. It’s getting better,” Ludwig says, and it’s true.

The longer they stay the more agitated the air becomes, but it isn’t scratching at his lungs any longer. He can see it gathering like fluttering moths on Alfred’s shoulders, trying to pierce through his light and soak through his shoulders. His concern is rising, but it isn’t for himself.

“Alfred, why is it going towards you like that?”

“I’m too hot obviously. Even the air wants a piece of this.”

Ludwig tenses at Alfred’s voice echoing throughout the walls. It seems like a taunt to a beast better left sleeping.

“Alfred, it feels off. Are you sure this is safe for you?”

“Trust me. I would never have brought you if I thought this would end badly.”

Ludwig believes him, and Alfred closes the last distance between him and the door and raps hard, bare knuckles against the wood. “Trust me, Lud. I’ve got this in a bag.”

He shifts uneasily. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” He steps back, nudging him with his shoulder and smiling.

The doors swings inward, the heavy scent of spices and smoke washing over him, and the low melody of singing mingling with the sounds of slamming glasses and boisterous laughter. A woman steps out from the shadows, her hips swaying in her dark cocktail dress and her green eyes flashing unnaturally bright. She exhales a cloud of smoke, her cigarette glowing red between her fingers.

“Oh, Alfred.” Her painted lips curve upwards. “And Ludwig. It’s lovely to have you boys come by for a visit. It’s been far too long since your last visit.”

Alfred smiles and takes her offered hand, pressing it to his lips. For a moment, something like uncertainty ebbs through his bearing, but as soon as it’s there, it’s gone. He straightens, an easy tilt to his posture.

“Time’s a fickle guy, Emma sweetheart. How have you been? You look as pretty as a daisy.” Alfred flashes her a winning smile, and Ludwig feels his heart drop a little in his chest.

“Why thank you, but please come inside- both of you.” Emma sweeps beside him, her hand settling on Ludwig’s arm as her gaze stays fixed on Alfred. She tugs them inside, and the doors shutter closed. “And you look positively dashing. Tell me more about your mortal friend here. It’s been too long since I’ve had a pretty young thing hanging off my arm. Maybe it’s high time I started taking tips.”

Ludwig’s skin crawls at her tone and her hand on his arm, but as thoughts of discomfort filter into his mind, she turns towards him and smiles eerily. He’s too rattled to smile back.

“Mortals aren’t playthings, Emma.” Alfred has tensed, but to his credit, his voice is level.

She laughs easily, her blonde curls bouncing on her shoulders. “My bad. We shouldn’t talk of such things in front of Ludwig.”

She leans in and places her hand on his chest, brushing off invisible dust from the fabric with surprising tenderness, and for a second it feels almost motherly. Her searching glance towards Alfred cracks the illusion.

“Where’s your brother by the way? Or are we supposed to talk to you?” Alfred scans the room and turns away.

“No, Bastiaan wanted to talk to you both personally.” She flutters her lashes. “He’s in the back room right now with Elliot. He already knows you’re here.”

“Of course, he fucking does.” Alfred mutters beneath his breath.

Emma’s smile ices almost imperceptibly at his comment. She stops by the door and pushes it open, smoke cutting in an arc from the door.

Alfred strides in first, all hesitation drained from his bearing. Ludwig shuffles after, and Emma sweeps in by his side. The room is dark. A yellowing light curls above a set of antique couches, and a cold-cut man lounges on an armchair, smoke curling upwards from his lips.

“Jones,” he says.

He smiles, chilled, and his eyes flick open, a vibrant green alight like his sister’s in the shadows. He’s dressed in a white dress shirt, his tie undone around his neck and the buttons partially undone. Ruthless is written in his very being from the tilt of his chiseled jaw to the hold of his broad shoulders to the cruel glint of the horns curling black around his head. He blinks slowly, his pupils slitted like a snake’s, and flicks the cigarette perched between his fingers.

“Van der Meer. It’s good to see you again,” Alfred says with the smooth oil of a businessman. Both men reach forward and shake.

Emma slips into one of the seats, crossing her legs and taking a drag. Alfred follows her lead, and Ludwig moves stiffly afterwards.  

“You made it safely. That’s always a shame,” Bastiaan says.

“Comfortably, too,” Alfred grins. “Where’s Elliot? Emma said you’d both be here.”

“Getting us something to drink. It isn’t a real business meeting until you have something burning down your throat in my opinion. Though please. Introduce us. Who’s this mortal you’ve packed along?”

“Oh, my bad.” Alfred settles in his armchair, mirroring Bastiaan’s wide-stanced sprawl in what he can only guess is a show of intimidation. “Van der Meer, this is Ludwig Beilschmidt. He helps me keep the books among other things. Ludwig, this is Bastiaan van der meer. He owns this harbor and runs this club.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Ludwig extends a hand.

“The pleasure is mine.” Bastiaan nods, the smile dissolved into business and his grip firm.

Ludwig crosses his arms over his chest and keeps his chin level as Alfred points to the papers on the coffee table. They’re written in a script he’s never seen before.

“So these are it,” Alfred says.

“Everything you asked for. We want ten in return.”

“The deal was three.”

“Five then.”

“I can’t do that. Three is even pushing it.”

“One if it’s this one.” Bastiaan’s gaze rakes up and down Ludwig’s figure, and the sickening suspicion that they’re talking about humans slithers through his mind.

He looks to Alfred, a crushing panic hovering above his lungs. The reality of what this could be unfolds like a nightmare, and Alfred’s golden eyes seem to soak in the dark. His jaw clenches, his gaze sweeping between the two men before him.

“No,” Alfred answers.

Ludwig exhales in relief, but Alfred is still the businessman, far more composed and unemotional than Ludwig’s ever seen him. Any hints of irritation towards Emma touching his chest or Bastiaan’s night biting at his day have vanished, leaving him an unnervingly different man, one Ludwig can’t seem to read. He swallows the lump in his throat and sits back in his seat.

“Pity. He’d make a lovely vessel. Consider me surprised that you haven’t used him yet.” Bastiaan drags on his cigarette, his voice impassive. “You can’t have only one, Jones. Where are you hiding the rest?”

Alfred flashes him a cold smile. “That isn’t what we’re dealing in, and I’m under no obligation to tell you. Take what I’m offering or the deal’s off.”

Bastiaan snaps his fingers, and a gaping tear slashes through what looks like reality. Parchment materializes in a spattering of licking shadows and floats into his grasp, black letters marching across the page in elegant script.

“Consider what we’re offering.” Bastiaan hands Alfred the parchment. “You’ll find it to your liking.”

Alfred frowns at the words, his eyes running back and forth across the parchment. The longer he reads the more drawn his eyebrows become, and his lips purse in consideration. Bastiaan remains silent, his expression unintelligible.

Footsteps click across the wood floors from somewhere in the darkness. Slowly, the figure of a lanky man emerges from the shadows, two sets of jagged wings extending from his back and slitted blue-green eyes glowing on his face. He steps out of the shadows, a tray of drinks on his forearm, and smiles straight at him. The man is angled with high cheekbones and a sharp jaw, but unlike Bastiaan, his features are elegant rather than chiseled.

The tray goes down with a flourish, his very movements languid yet precise. This man who Ludwig presumes must be Elliot is dressed the most stylishly of any of them, a sharp three piece suit done over his light pink shirt and white gloves pulled over his hands. Ludwig avoids squinting at them in suspicion as Elliot’s gaze is still fixed upon him, but he finds that Elliot may be the most disconcerting of them all.

“You must be Ludwig.” His voice sounds like what a hidden smile conveys, smooth silver and honey coating. “What a handsome one indeed. I’m so pleased to see you could join us, _schatz_. I’m Elliot.” He extends his gloved hand, an enigmatic smile on his features.

Ludwig takes it and shakes. “Pleased to meet you as well.”

“Have you been in Amsterdam long?” His grip is surprisingly steady for a man who moves like mist.

He’s beautiful with his soft beige hair and gentle smile, but Ludwig has yet to meet anyone so off.

“Not long, no. Just since the morning.”

“We just flew in.” Alfred smoothly interjects, offering Elliot his hand. “How have you been, man? It’s got to have been a while since we last talked.”

Elliot smiles, exuding a warmth underlaid with a burrowing decay. He takes Alfred’s hand and shakes it. “Quite terrible actually. Someone mistook me for a corpse the other day and promptly buried me alive. But what about yourself? You look as dashing as I remember.”

Alfred tenses, and the world seems to crackle like an old television struggling to find a signal. The flickering slows between two realities: one where it’s all only vaguely odd, Alfred glowing a warm yellow and Elliot smiling with his leathery wings tucked behind his back, and another where it is the Veil, Alfred a blinding gold dripping to the floor as Elliot a bleeding darkness spears his thorns into his cloud of light. The illusion drops the instant their hands release, and Ludwig shivers involuntarily. Alfred straightens, white dust falling from his palm as he swipes it across his pants. Emma looks warningly in Elliot’s direction, and he takes a careful seat.

“The same to you.” Alfred wipes his hand across his mouth. “And I’ve been great. Thanks for asking.”

“Well, now that we’re settled feel free to have a drink,” Bastiaan says. He selects a glass from the tray and brings it to his lips. “Take your time with the contract, Jones.”

Elliot reaches for the tray and passes them each a drink, first Alfred, then Ludwig, Emma and himself. Ludwig holds the stem between his fingers, marveling at the delicacy of the glasswork, and stares into its odd contents. The liquid is black as night, opaque and swirling of its own accord, and a single lemon perches on the lip.  He lifts it to his nose and inhales. Black blooms across his vision, dark water washing over his skin and cold chilling him past the bone. It feels like the deck of a ship in a storm. He pulls back, slamming against the back of the couch with a shuddering exhale. The contents of the glass slosh up against the sides.

“Careful,” Bastiaan says, no telling emphasis in his tone.

“Sorry.” He flushes and attempts to regain his composure.

“Is this even mortal proof?” Alfred says. His tone has regained its naturally teasing lilt. It’s familiar, and a strange relief flushes warmth through Ludwig’s limbs.

“Try it and see.” Elliot smiles.

“You probably shouldn’t try this, Lud. Not sure if no harm oaths apply to unintentional poisoning.” Alfred tips back his glass, and immediately, crushing dread crashes over Ludwig.

The scent of ozone slices through the air, and the hair on his arms rises to attention. Something dark shifts at the corner of his vision, a sighing like the last breath of the dying breezing through the room. When he glances to his side, Emma’s dress has extended like the legs of a crab beneath her, and she leans forward, her fanged smile devoid of warmth. _Danger_ , Ludwig’s mind hisses. Before Alfred’s glass shatters against the floor, he’s up on his feet. The drink splashes on the wood, puddling like spilled ink and evaporating into gray smoke seconds after it lands.

“Catch!” A familiar voice he can’t place breaks through the eerie lull.

He reaches out, his own glass shattering, and a club drops into his hands. He whirls, shocked, and Emma rushes forward.

He swings up. It connects with her arm, and she hisses, her green eyes enlarged like glowing orbs on her face. A sick crack sounds from beside him. A shadow blurs past. The light shatters, and shards of yellow glass torpedo in his direction. Ludwig skids to the side.

A rattling escapes her throat. Jagged, black teeth extend, and her jaw opens to her ears in unnatural wideness.

She lunges.

Instincts born from the school of the streets take over. He slides and jabs. Glass sprays from his feet. He feints to his side, and pain erupts down his arm. Adrenaline courses through his veins as her claws tear from his skin. He swings down hard, and she grabs his bat and screams.

“Ludwig!” The familiar voice shouts at his side.

He frowns at the voice and her strength. Her claws are denting the metal, and he cannot pull it from her grasp.

“Ludwig!” They say, “Get Alfred and run!”

The bat snaps. He drops it and runs. The figure who’d spoken moves like a hurricane through the undulating fungus at their feet. They slash their two swords and hit limbs as the scene shifts from Veil to not, mousy brown curls bouncing at their neck. They seem so familiar, but he still can’t place it. He pushes through to the glowing mass on the couch.

Alfred gags soundlessly from his seat, his eyes’ glow flickering in the drowning dark. He curls around his knees, and from his eyes, black tears flow down his face in streams. The same trickles down his chin and bleeds in dark splotches across his chest. Ludwig grabs him. He pulls him against his chest and compresses upwards. He does his best to ignore his horror as a writhing mass splatters against the floor.

Alfred slumps in his grasp.

“Hurry!” A man appears in front of him and takes Alfred from his arms. He picks him up bridal style and dashes towards the doors, giving no explanation.

Ludwig sprints after him, his heart fluttering in his throat and sweat beading his brow. He wants to be upset. He knows no one. He understands nothing. Alfred is lying drugged in a pale stranger’s arms, and Ludwig grasps none of this. A lump builds in his throat as his eyes land on Alfred’s paled face, fear’s cold hand clamped around his heart. He curses beneath his breath. It’s true. He’s never been so worried.

The doors slam open. Clicks, whispers, animalistic hisses ripple through the patrons. Tens of eyes fix upon them, and the scrambling starts.

“Oh fuck.” The man shouts, dashing towards the door with Alfred still in his arms.

Ludwig snitches the nearest bottle and smashes it against the counter. The creatures scatter back. Their eyes are black as night, and their horns shift dulled in the low light. Whatever it was begins burning on Ludwig’s skin, but he only grips it harder. He swings it in a threatening arc, his head held high and his gaze piercing. Blood drips from his arm to the floor, and smokes swirls around his head.

“Hurry up!” The man calls from the front.

Alfred is slumped against his arm, and he’s cracking a blue whip in the other, his face drawn in a grimace. Sweat drips down his brow.

Ludwig lunges forward through the crowd. He swings back and forth through the murmuring crowd of monsters until he reaches the man’s side.

“Cover me!” He shoves the handle of his whip in Ludwig’s hands.

He picks Alfred back up and sprints for the door, patterns of glowing blue spreading out from his neck.

“Stay back!” Ludwig barks. He plunges through the crowd.

Wings, scales and things he cannot name brush by him, chairs clattering and glassware fracturing against the ground. He coughs on the smoke until it darkens and morphs into something nearly solid. With it, a sickly sweet stench wafts on the air and plugs up his nostrils, and he gags involuntarily. Mushrooms burst across the floor and encircle his feet. They explode across the door frames and seal their exit, creating a putrid barrier between freedom and death. The man curses colorfully in a mix of English and something else as Elliot drifts down at their front.

“We can’t fight Decay.” The man mutters just loud enough for Ludwig to hear. “This is bad, bad fucking news.”

“I have this,” Ludwig says and marches forward.

Mold rushes towards his feet.

 _This is the scent of rot. No._ He amends. _It’s of death._ A hand presses against his back, and a million sensations flood into his mind; the smell of salt, a blood curdling cry, wildflowers, summer lakes and water lapping at your feet. But above it all is heat blooming through his core to his limbs to his fingers like the ichor of the gods in his veins. He cracks the whip and shouts. The ground itself shakes.

The world becomes a blur of beige and white. Death creeps up his feet and brushes at his legs, but the instant they touch him, they disintegrate to black dust on the ground.

“Pity. I thought this would be simple.” Elliot sneers.

“Think again,” Ludwig says. He feels like a young god.

He slices the whip across his arm. Elliot’s blood spurts black. His eyes flash with murderous intent, and daggers flick out from his wrists. He feints forward and stabs. Ludwig dodges. He slashes, and Ludwig swings with a forceful shout.

Elliot shoots up, fungi bursting from beneath his feet, but the whip snags at his leg. It digs its bluing spikes into his flesh, and the decaying tower beneath him crumbles to the floor. He inhales shakily. Ludwig glances to his side to search for Alfred, but he recognizes his mistake an instant too late.

Elliot blinks forward, and pain like he’s never felt lances up his ribs. He gasps, the light draining from his body, and crumples to the floor. He feels mortal, and it hits him. He’s going to die. Wracking convulsions shudder up his spine, hot and cold flaring in his skin, and his throat begins to constrict.

 _Poison_ , is all his mind can say.

The floor is cold and hard. He can hear whispers and footsteps, shouts and clashing metal, and it hurts. Everything hurts.

Elliot kneels beside him. A gloved hand caresses his cheek, Elliot’s silver voice drifting to his ears in a tone that’s almost sympathetic. “What a shame to waste such a pretty thing.”

“ _Damn you_.” Ludwig hisses back.

“Ludwig!” Someone shouts.

It sounds almost like Kiku. He smiles in his head to himself at the thought, and his vision burns red to black to nothing at all.


End file.
